Shrinking Violet
by decayedwhirrs
Summary: "Ever since you got here, this is the better place."
1. Such a Nice Dress

She winced a little as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the fridge, the cool air chilling her hands and face. Where is it? She thought, her eyes scanning the items. Milk. Cheese. Behind her, in the hallway, she could hear her father greeting his patient, their low murmurs and staccato footsteps trailing away from her, until the door of his office clicked shut. She chewed the inside of her lip, her brow furrowed in frustration. Where is it?

"Whatcha lookin' for?" a playful voice asked.

Violet jumped a little at the sudden sound. She relaxed a little when she saw him, posed casually near the fridge, with his familiar, sly smile. She grabbed the head of lettuce she'd been searching for, and held it out triumphantly. "Interesting choice," he said in jest, his bright smile widening.

"Hey, Tate," she said with a grin as she flicked the fridge door shut. "You have an appointment with my dad or something?"

He shook his head, his messy blond hair swishing around his cheekbones. "Nah, not today. I just wanted to see you."

Violet blushed, and gave him a flattered smile. She set the lettuce down on the counter and reached for the loaf of bread. "You want anything to eat?" she asked.

"Nah," he said, with a shake of his head. He stepped behind Violet and wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand sliding gently over the narrow curve of her hips. "I'll just watch you instead," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. Violet smiled, and slowed her movements, not wanting to pull too far away from him. Tate was warm and comfortable, and when he held her close like this, she felt safe, like it was just the two of them in the whole world. He held her so near-his chest molded onto her back, his hips pressed lightly into hers-that it felt criminal to break their bond. He moved gently with her, and when she stood still, he would sway their bodies softly from side to side, in an effort to show he cared.

Tate inhaled the soft scent of her hair, the strands tickling the tip of his nose. "This dress is nice," he said, running his hands up her ribs. Violet thanked him, explaining that she bought it a few years ago at a thrift store in Boston. Tate listened quietly, distracting her with soft, feathery kisses down her shoulder. He slowly slipped the strap of her dress off, and planted a firm kiss on her shoulder, the ends of his long hair tickling her bare skin.

"Tate!" She said sweetly, her voice carrying a tone of false annoyance. She brushed him off, but her smile and blushing cheeks gave her away.

"Hmm?" He asked, resting his jaw back on her shoulder. He looked up at her with round, innocent eyes. She smiled, and shook her head playfully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He gave her a few more light kisses on the shoulder. "You know, this dress is really nice," he said, sliding his hands up the front of her torso and gave her breasts a soft squeeze. She placed her hand over his, encouraging him to knead the sensitive flesh with his fingertips. "But it would look even better like this," he breathed into her ear as he slowly pulled down the front zipper with his free hand. "Mmmh," Violet moaned, and leaned back into him, her back arched, her chest waiting. Tate slid his hand under the fabric, his fingers swirling idly around her belly button as he leisurely kissed her neck. He ran his hands over her flat belly and licked the lobe of her ear, before gently taking it between his teeth, snickering as he gave it a nibble.

By the time he reached Violet's chest, she was panting in anticipation. Tate pulled back the fabric with both hands, exposing her bare breasts. He placed his rough, masculine hands over them and gave them a little squeeze. "So soft," he said in her ear, her rosy nipples poking out between his fingers as he massaged her breasts. Violet purred as he touched her, a blissful expression on her face as she rested her head on his shoulder. He pinched her nipples, tugging on the sensitive skin. Violet let out a needy moan as he twisted her nipples between his thumb and index finger. "You like that, Vi?" He said in a rough, low voice. She moaned and turned her head to the side, hiding from him. "Don't run away from me, Violet," he said, giving her nipples a sharp pinch. He brought his teeth to the exposed flesh of her neck and bit down, sucking hard. "Mmm" she moaned, instinctively clutching the messy curls at the back of his head. After a moment, Tate pulled away, revealing a dark, wine-colored hickey that bruised her neck. Violet bit her lip and gently touched the tender spot, a naughty smile forming on her lips.

Tate grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, shoving her against the counter. "You like when I'm rough with you, Violet?" He asked, stepping towards her. She opened her mouth to say his name, but before she could get the word out, his lips were pressed hard on hers in a deep kiss. He cupped her face, feeling the soft, silky strands of her hair in-between his fingers as he pulled her close to him. He teased her tongue as he grabbed the straps of her dress and violently pulled them down off her shoulders, exposing her thin, naked body from the waist up. She made a protesting sound, but it was muffled as he cupped the back of her skull, one hand on her narrow hips, and pressed her back against the counter, his tongue slipping deeper into her open mouth. She moaned hungrily and melded into his lean body, her arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer, begging him to give her more. He ran his hands over her smooth tits, feeling her perky nipples against his palms . "Mmmmnh," she gave a long, approving moan, and nipped at his plump, pouty bottom lip with her teeth.

He stepped back and grabbed her roughly by the jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "Now, now Violet. Who taught you to play so dirty?" He yanked up the loose fabric of her dress and gave her a sharp smack on the bottom. Violet stifled a moan, and dug her nails into her lover's shoulder blades. "Tate!" She reprimanded in a hushed voice. "My dad's in the other room!" Tate snickered and dragged his teeth over the tender flesh of Violet's neck. "Oh, wouldn't want daddy to know you're fucking his worst patient," he said mockingly in her ear before giving her another, louder, crack on the ass, leaving a faint, pink hand print. She bit her lip to silence a yelp as he struck her. "Come on," she said sweetly in his ear. "If he catches us, he won't see you anymore."

"So?" Tate said defiantly. "That's not gonna keep me away from you. Besides," he said, slipping his hand under the waistband of her cotton panties, grazing the outline of her lips. He pushed two fingers inside of her easily, the squelching sound of her wetness betraying her false modesty. He stroked her clit with his thumb, leisurely from side to side, as he felt inside of her. Violet felt her knees buckle from his skilled touch, and buried her face in his shoulder, to hide her guilty expression of pleasure, and the sensual exhalation that came with it. But after a few brief moments, Tate pulled his fingers out and held them up so she could see them. The tips were pruned and glistening in the sunlight that came in through the kitchen windows. "...I don't think you really want me to stop," he finished. Violet bit her lip, a giddy flush coming to her cheeks. She couldn't play the innocent card any longer, and Tate knew it. He slid both hands under the fabric of her underwear-Violet could feel where her wetness had wiped off his fingers on her bottom-and pushed the cloth down, letting them fall to her ankles. Then he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her over his knee, the hem of her dress pushed up around her waist with the rest of the dress, her bare ass exposed. "Huh? Do you, Violet?" He said, giving her sharp spank. "N-no," she muttered quietly, still afraid of her father hearing. "What?" Tate asked, his hand coming down on her ass again. "No," she said again, with more confidence. But Tate wasn't satisfied. "Louder, Violet," he demanded, spanking her again. "Mmmmmm," a raspy moan came from her throat. "Hmm? Answer me, Violet. Do you want me to stop?" There was the crack of his palm against her ass. It was getting to be too much for Violet. She could feel his stiff bulge pressing against her hip, and every time he spanked her she felt a naughty, needy pulse between her legs. At this point, Violet was willing to say whatever Tate wanted, if it meant she'd get to feel more than just his fingertips. There was another impatient smack. "N-no! No! Don't stop," she begged, her voice aching with need.

Tate smiled, and massaged the red patch on her ass where he had spanked her. "Aww, there's a good girl," he said with approval. He felt the curve of her ass, his palm sliding over her dripping pussy, down the backs of her thighs. Violet had gotten so wet, there was a glistening trail of the clear fluid going down her legs. "My, my" he said, shaking his head. "I told him you get wet so easily," he said, pushing three fingers into her hole. "Mmmmm!" she moaned. She didn't even try to be quiet anymore. She wanted Tate, badly, and didn't care who heard it. Tate pushed his fingers in and out, her pink lips clinging to him with each move. He forced past her tightness, shoving his fingers in to the third knuckle. He pushed the pad of his thumb against her clit and rubbed slow, leisurely circles. Violet was clinging to a stool placed near the kitchen island, fearful that she'd collapse on the floor without it. She had her face pressed against the seat, her breath coming in needy, erotic gasps. "Hahhh... hahhh..." she sighed. Her knees were buckling under her, and she was clutching the stool so hard her knuckles were white. She was getting dangerously close to Tate setting her off, and then she'd be in real trouble-there's no way she'd be able to keep her dad, and his client, from hearing the orgasm she felt coming. She bit her lip, strands of hair matted on her face, and prepared for the intense vibrations.

But they didn't come. Her eyes snapped open and she felt Tate slowly sliding his fingers out of her. He held his wet, glistening fingers up and snickered, before putting them in his mouth, sucking the flavor off of them. "Mmm," he moaned, wetting his red lips. "Such a sweet girl," he growled, grabbing a fistful of her blonde hair, pulling her up. But once she was standing, Violet surprised him by clamoring onto her knees and tugging at his belt buckle. "Violet," he said, surprised, his hands up. But once the shock wore off and he realized what she was doing, he snickered. "Such a good, pretty girl," he praised, pulling her hair back into a ponytail shape with his fist. "Come suck me," he urged. Violet yanked down his zipper and pulled out his thick cock, a trail of precum sticking to his leg. Violet wrapped her fingers around the clear strand and devoured the fluid off of her fingers before plunging his cock into her mouth. She took him as deep as she could in one go, jerking the rest of him with her fingers and looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. She bobbed her head back and forth, sucking his pale flesh with pouty lips. She slid him slowly out of her mouth and fluttered her tongue on the tip, lapping up more of his salty precum. "Ahhh," Tate moaned, feeling her mouth work on him. He waved her towards him with his fingers, and she obeyed, sliding her lips down his dick as far as she could. Once she got there, he bucked his hips, pushing the rest of his length into her mouth. Tate bit his lip as he felt the back of her throat with his tip, pushing his cock shallower and deeper with rough, rhythmic pulses. Violet moaned at his assertiveness, dragging her nails down his thighs in pleasure. Tate snarled like an animal, her warm, wet mouth was feeling too good. "You like when I facefuck you, Violet?" He growled at her. "Mmmmmmfff," she moaned, nodding up and down as she sucked him. "Huh? You like that?" He barked, quickening his pace. Violet locked her arms around his bony hips and pulled him closer, mashing his dick even further into her throat. He bucked into her mouth three hard times, and then held her there at the base of his cock by her hair, pressing her nose into his pubic hair, feeling himself on every part of her beautiful mouth, in her throat, on her tongue, wrapped around her lips, before pulling her all the way off of him. There was a gurgle in Violet's throat as she caught her breath. His cock was coated in spit, with thick trails clinging from his tip to her full, pink lips.

He pulled her up under her armpits, the dress sliding off her in his haste, and threw her onto the kitchen island. He pushed his jeans down and climbed over her. She rested her ankles on his shoulders and reached her arms back over her head, gripping the edge of the surface, preparing for him. He pushed into her easily, shoving himself all the way in, his length pulling her apart. When he was ball-deep, he began to fuck her. He gripped the back of her thigh with one hand, and kissed the inside of her leg, watching as she squirmed beneath him. Her whole body shook as he rammed into her: her feminine ass on the counter top, her cute little tits with her perky pink nipples bouncing up and down with each thrust he made in her. "Ugh... T-Tate..." she moaned, his thick cock stuffing her. He sneered and nipped the inside of her thigh with his teeth. Then he brought his hand around her throat and slid his left hand down her thigh til he was between her legs, rubbing her clit in small, fast circles with his fingertips. She moaned and quivered at his touch, her cunt streaking his cock with juice every time he pulled out of her. "Tate..." she whined. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Now, now Violet. If you keep on like that, someone's gonna hear you," he scolded. He knew he said the right thing when he felt her clench against him. He rubbed her even quicker, fucking her as fast as he could. "Come on Violet, tell daddy who's fucking you," he demanded. "Say my name." Violet's eyes rolled back as she gyrated her hips against him. He felt so good, filling her up with his big cock, making her shake with his expert fingers. She slid her hands over her tits and pinched her own nipples, remembering the skilled way Tate had warmed her up. "Ugh, T-T... t-t-t..." her lips quivered around the first letter, an excited strain in her eyes that told him she was close. "Come on Violet, cum for me," he said, giving her all he had, his cock aching to blow inside her. He felt her clench on him, and as she closed her eyes, the word came. "Ugh, Tate!" She moaned, loud and exasperated, her voice shaking with pleasure. He snickered and covered her mouth with his palm as she shook against him, cumming in hot pulses that squeezed his cock. Once her moans had pittered out into hot, heavy breaths, he braced her by both shoulders. She gave him a sly smile and squeezed his balls. "Cum for me, Tate" she said, massaging his sack. "Fill me up, I want all your hot cum in me." Tate was surprised by how filthy she was being, but it pushed him over the edge. "Ah, Violet, I... I'm cumming!" He said, grunting as he ground his hips into her. He came in long, slow pulses that left him completely spent. Finally, he collapsed on top of Violet, who immediately wrapped her arms around him.

Tate exhaled twice before he spoke again. "I shot off ten times," he confessed. "Shut up!" Violet said, sounding unconvinced. "No, I swear!" He said with a laugh. "You felt that good." She smiled and curled her fingers leisurely around his hair. "You felt amazing too. It was kinda worth potentially getting in trouble, she said." Just as the words came out of her mouth, they heard footsteps going down the hallway. Her dad's session with his client was finished, and he was showing him to the door. "Oh, shit," Tate said, looking over his shoulder. "Go, go!" Violet urged, smacking his arm to get him off her. He pulled out and rolled off the counter top, fumbling for his underwear. Violet slipped her dress on in moments, but left it unzipped, choosing instead to help Tate-who was clumsily hopping around on one foot, trying to pull the denim on-get his pants back up. They heard the front door open, so Violet felt they had no choice. She grabbed her panties off the floor and pushed Tate out the kitchen door while her father's back was turned. They bolted up the stairs and collapsed at the landing on the second floor in a fit of giggles.

"Ugh, that was a close one," Tate said with smile. "Here, let me get that for you," he said, gesturing to her dress. He pulled the zipper up and she returned the favor, zipping up his trousers and buckling his belt. The sat together for a moment in comfortable silence. "I don't usually do stuff like that," she said shyly. Tate laughed. "I'm sure you don't, he said," wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. "It was fun, though," he added. Violet nodded her head in agreement, and gave her boyfriend an Eskimo kiss. "I love you, Tate," she said. "I love you too, Violet," he replied. He looked down and ran his hand over her skirt. "Your dress really is nice," he said. Violet rolled her eyes and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.


	2. I'm Kinda Full Already

"Violet?"

They looked at each other, making playful, guilty wincing faces. It was her father. She stood up, took a breath to let some time pass, and then turned the corner of the stairs.

"Yeah?" Ben was standing at the base of the stairs, the wilted head of lettuce in his hand. "How long has this been sitting out?" Violet crossed her arms over her chest and shuffled a little. "I don't know... I forgot about it, sorry." Her dad accepted this, and she met Tate back at the top of the stairs. "We had to throw out all the lettuce because of you!" She said with a laugh. Tate shrugged. "You guys let it sit in there for five days; you weren't using it anyway." He smiled at her.

"Ugh!" Violet groaned suddenly. She tilted her knee and hiked up her dress. A clear trail of semen was running down her leg. "Ew, that's sick," she said, her face twisted in disgust. Tate chuckled. "Sorry 'bout that. Here, let's get you all cleaned up, before your mom gets home." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and lead her to the bathroom.

Violet tossed her panties in the hamper as Tate cranked on the hot water. He tore off several sheets of toilet paper, and folded them into a vague square. "Here," he said gently, crouching down to wipe the semen off of the inside of her thigh before pressing it softly between her legs. "I didn't mean to make such a mess," he joked. Violet laughed and crumpled up the toilet paper, throwing it in the wastebasket. "Don't worry about it," she said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, standing on her tiptoes. He slid his hands around her waist and held her close, her nubile form pressed against his body, his lips puckering softly against her sweet, pink lips. The room began to feel humid, and steam was wafting from the shower head, fogging the mirror. He pulled away slowly. "Come on," he said, slipping the strap of her dress off of her shoulder. "Let's get you in the shower." His hand slid up her back and pulled on the zipper, her dress falling off her body into a heap on the floor. She smirked proudly as his eyes moved over her, her small breasts, the bony ridges of her hips, her soft thighs, and her tender core, which was pink and inflamed from his roughness and still dripping with his leftover fluid.

He brought his eyes up to meet hers, dark and glowing with mischief, and he cupped her face sweetly, smiling at her. "I'll leave you to it, princess," he said, kissing her on the forehead and heading for the door. But he was stopped suddenly, her fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. "Uh-uh," she scolded. "Where do you think you're going?" She pulled him back to her, planting her lips firmly over his. His sweater was warm and moist in the humidity, the coarse wool teasing her nipples, delightfully scratching her bare skin. He kissed her hard and gave her ass a squeeze, tugging on it to make it jiggle before giving her a light spank, his bare palm and wool sleeve turning her cheek pale pink. "Now, now Violet. Why so eager? Did I not satisfy you?" He scoffed, recalling how she had shook beneath him when she came, the way he had pounded inside of her, knowing perfectly well that he had wrecked her. A smug smile curled his lips.

Violet nipped at his bottom lip, giving it a quick suck before tugging and releasing it. She trailed her fingertip from his shoulder, down his arm. "Maybe I just want a little more." She brushed past him and stepped into the hot water, wetting her hair. She arched her back as she slicked back her hair, her round little chest and perky ass on display. "Aww, what's the matter, Tate?" she mocked, pulling her drenched hair over one shoulder, like a mermaid. "Did you wear yourself out?" She glanced down at his groin and didn't bother to suppress a bitchy laugh. "You're not too tired for another round, are you?" She squirted some body wash into her palms and slowly ran the suds over her breasts, squeezing them together, kneading a pink nipple between her fingertips. She watched him watching her, and smirked at him. She liked being his naughty little showgirl. She wet a washcloth and held it up, wringing it out over her slick, shiny body. The soapy water trailed down the curve of her breasts, over her stomach, and dripped off of her legs. She cocked her head. "Come on, Tate. You're letting all the steam out." Then, she snickered at him.

Suddenly, he stomped towards her, grabbed her by the face, and kissed her hard. Her lips were slick with shower water. He growled as he kissed her, before pulling away. He was cupping her by the face, both of his thumbs planted firmly under her jaw, so she was forced to look at him. Her eyes, which were streaked with cockiness moments before, were wide and glittering with a hint of fear. "Don't be such a little _bitch_, Violet" he sneered, his face inches from hers. He ripped the washcloth from her hand, turned her and bent her over his arm, and spanked her with the washcloth, the wet fabric whipping her bare ass, leaving pink marks where the cloth stung her. "Hmm? Are you done being such a little brat?" Tate snapped at her, flogging her with the washcloth. "Mmfh," Violet bit her lip as she winced. "Yes, I'm sorry," she whimpered. "You don't seem sorry," Tate said, striking her again. "Are you gonna stop talking back and be a good girl?" She nodded. "Yes, yes, I promise!" Tate bit his lip, watching her squirm beneath him. "Are you sure? Huh?" He shouted at her. "Yes! Please Tate, I-I'll do anything you say!" Tate snickered and dropped the washcloth, massaging her ass where he spanked her, giving it a firm squeeze as he straightened her up. "That's more like it, Vi. There's a good, obedient little girl." He peeled off his clothes and joined her in the shower, yanking the curtain shut behind him.

He grabbed her by the face and pulled her in for a deep kiss, the water beating down his back, and soaking his hair into limp strands. He rubbed her cheekbones with his thumb as he kissed her. Her lips were soft, pliant and submissive; they quivered as he pulled back to catch his breath. His eyes roamed over her as he lingered in that moment, looking down her vulnerable, exposed body, her wide, needy eyes looking up at him innocently, waiting for his command, or his action. He snickered at her before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her in for another kiss, his left hand sliding down over her damp collarbone, massaging her soft, pert breast. "Mmm, Violet," he moaned, nipping her lower lip. "I can't get enough of your sexy little body." He teased her rosy nipple, kneading it delicately with his fingertip as he nipped and sucked her bottom lip. She responded to his touch, her nipples getting stiff and swollen as he played with her, wetness dripped between her legs, and not from the shower. She moaned and knotted her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her. He kept kissing her as he ran his hand over the subtle curve of her breast, down her smooth stomach, and around over her hip til he was roughly squeezing her ass. She had a perky, softly rounded bottom, and Tate loved the way it jiggled and bounced slightly whenever he spanked her, or took her from behind. He dug his nails into the soft flesh of her rear and tugged on it, just to feel it ripple beneath his palm when he let it go. He eased his tongue into her mouth, licking the wet, rough muscle. Violet whimpered and cowered beneath him, his mouth and hands winding her up, tensing every muscle in her body. Tate snickered. "Not so tough now, are we, little girl?"

Violet looked up at him with innocent eyes and blinked at him, a small, meek confession of her obedience. She bit her lip, red and swollen as she looked up at him. He chuckled and cupped her around the jaw, planting firm kisses from her cheek down her neck, nipping at the flesh there. "Let's feel that soft little pussy," he breathed into her ear, his hand curving back around her hip, two fingers teasing her wet entrance before pushing inside of her. "Mmm!" Violet winced, clenching her muscle and burying her face in Tate's shoulder. "Hm?" He said inquisitively, feeling on her. She could barely take him to the first knuckle. He pulled out a finger so just one was inside of her, but her body was still tense and rigid as she resisted him. Tate pulled out and kissed her on the head. "What's the matter honey?" He asked sweetly. Violet looked up at him. "I want you to-like I really, really want you to-but when you go in, it just hurts..." she trailed off, blushing and looking embarrassed. Tate smiled kindly at her, brushing her wet hair back from her face. "Don't worry, ok? Just let me take a look at it."

Violet nodded, and let Tate gently pull her to a seated position. She spread her legs wide, one ankle hanging out over the edge of the tub. Tate kneeled down between her legs and gently pushed her lips apart, examining her. After a few seconds, he started laughing. "What? What is it?" Violet asked, concerned. Tate let his laughs die down before he answered. He leaned in to whisper in her ear "You're all red down there, Violet. Looks like I was a little too rough on you earlier. You're all swollen." She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "It's true," he said, flicking his pinkie at her. "You can barely take any of it," he growled in her ear, shoving his smallest finger in. Violet flinched, but her body accepted him. He pushed it in and out, snickering. "See what I mean?" he said. "You're so tender. Here, let me kiss you better..." He pulled out and looked in her eyes, sucking her sweet flavor off of his finger. He wrapped her hands around the backs of her thighs and kissed down her stomach, before hoisting her up to meet his mouth, her bottom off of the floor. He kissed around her puffy, aching hole, smothering it with soft, tender kisses. "Violet, I'm so sorry for making you sore. Here, let me fix it..." he said, lapping up her sweetness and looking up at her with dark, round eyes. He traced his tongue in slow circles around her entrance, squeezing her soft thighs as he carefully poked his tongue inside her. He gently sucked out all of her sweet wetness, his mouth humming on her tender, delicate insides.

"Mmm, Tate..." she moaned, writhing beneath him, her back arching, her hips bucking against his skilled, expert mouth. She knotted her fingers in his soaked hair and held him close to her, so he could continue teasing her with his flawless technique. He spread her with two of his fingers and spread his tongue flat over her, his muscle dragging over every sensitive inch of her, making her wetter as he coated her with his saliva, the tip of his tongue flicking up to tickle her clit as he licked her. He felt her body tense up again as he played with her, only this time, for the correct reason-he was driving her nuts and her body couldn't take much more of it. Tate looked up at her-her eyebrows furrowed in restraint, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, her fingernails curled against her pouty bottom lip, her rosy nipples perky and as tender as her insides, the shower water beating over her chest and dripping off her firm nipples-she was trying not to cum, and it was a challenge Tate was willing to accept.

He snickered and kept his dark eyes focused on her as he brought his lips around her clit, his fingertips beginning to rub her entrance, her juices glazing his fingertips as he sucked on her. "Mmm Violet, you taste so good princess..." he said, wrapping his full lips around her clit, sucking on it and smacking his lips over it to make it throb. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, flicking it rapidly over her, looking at her with a smug, pleased look in his eye. "Be a good girl and cum for me, Violet," he demanded coyly, working his fingers over her hole to tease her. "You know you want to princess. Mmm and you taste so good!" he moaned, burying his face between her legs. He kneaded his tongue over her, sucking on her clit with his pouty, bratty lips. He looked up at her, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Come on, Violet" he groaned, pushing his thumb onto her clit, rubbing it slowly to torture her. "Give me something sweet to taste when you cum all over my face," he ordered, nodding his head up and down as he licked her aching hole, keeping his dark eyes on her, watching and waiting for her reaction.

"Ugh, Tate!" Violet moaned, her head pressed back against the shower tiles, her sensitive, round breasts on display as she arched her back, her tender, throbbing cunt pressed against his mouth. She gripped him by the hair and dared to look down at him as he watched her, smug and coy, his lips kissing her pubic bone, his tongue flickering over her clit, making her vibrate from the inside out. Her thighs tensed up beneath his grip as she felt his tongue slide down to slurp up her wetness, trailing it back up to her clit, which was at this point pounding, begging for release. "Mmm... Mmm...!" Violet whimpered, looking down at Tate with pleading eyes. He looked pleased with himself and sucked her clit, smacking his lips as he let it go. "Do it, Violet," he commanded. "Tate..." she groaned, chills tingling down her spine as she gyrated against him. "Cum in my mouth, Violet!" he barked at her, swirling the tip of his tongue around her tender sweet spot. "T-T-Tate!" Violet moaned, breathless. Her hips began to shake and all the tension in her body melted through her center as she came, moaning his name in hot, exasperated breaths, languid throbs pulsing from her core. After a few seconds she relaxed, crumpling back against the tub.

"Oh my god," she groaned, opening her eyes, a goofy smile on her face. He was standing on his knees in front of her, smiling. "That was amazing," she said, her voice still soft, feminine and shaky. His smile turned into a smirk as he sucked the lingering flavor off of his fingertips. Violet blushed, and pulled him down for a kiss. She wrapped her legs around his bony hips, his wet, lean torso pressed into hers, his lips sweet and tangy with the taste of her. She moaned and ran her fingers through his dripping hair, their tongues teasing one another. Violet was sliding her hand down over his slick stomach, inching towards his groin, when a sharp knock at the door made them both jump.

"Violet? It's almost time for dinner sweetie," Vivien said. "'Kay, be out in a minute," she responded, rolling her eyes, waiting for her mother to back away from the door. Tate looked at her as he stood, a playful grin on his face as he lathered some shampoo in his limp curls. Once Violet was sure her mother had backed away, she eagerly got on her knees and popped Tate's dick in her mouth. "V-Violet? What are you doing?" He said, surprised. "You didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she replied with a coy smile. She pressed her tongue flat against his base and licked him from his underside to his tip. Tate closed his eyes and swayed a little with the pleasing feeling of her warm, wet mouth. He placed his sudsy hand on the back of her head. "Violet baby, you don't have to. I don't mind just treating you..." he stopped suddenly, silenced by the feeling of her eager mouth taking him as deep as possible. She held him there in her throat for a moment, just to shut him up. She looked up at him as she held him in her mouth, the way he had teased her by looking up at her moments before. She chuckled as she slowly slid him out of her mouth, tendrils of spit clinging to her lips "It's okay. I want to. Besides, I know you can finish fast if you have to," she said with a wink, before parting her lips and swallowing him up again.

Tate moaned and leaned his head back, the hot water pouring over his head, the shampoo rinsing down over his collarbones, his stomach, down around his thighs where Violet gripped him for stability as she bobbed her head back and forth over his length, her mouth tightly sealed around him, sucking him hard. "Mmm, Vi..." he moans, rubbing the back of her skull with his palm. She quickened her pace and gently squeezed his balls. After a moment she took him out of her mouth and flicked her tongue over his dripping tip. "Come on, baby," she mocked playfully, the sass she started with returning to her as she jerked him. "Cum in my mouth, Tate!" she demanded, just as he had done to her. She laughed at him, that same bitchy laugh she'd done before he spanked her, the one that always drove him over the edge to assert his dominance. "Ugh, Violet!" He grunted. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, jerking himself quickly over her full, pouty lips. She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out, prepared to catch every drop of him. Tate grunted twice before blowing in her expectant mouth, pumping his warm fluid over her waiting tongue. "Mmm, Violet," he groaned, stroking himself, pressing his other hand against the shower wall for balance, pulsing the last few bursts into her mouth as he finished.

Violet smiled up at him, his semen pooled in her mouth. She stuck her tongue out as far as possible, and opened her mouth wide, proudly showing him how much he had emptied into her. "Ahh" she said playfully, as if she were at the doctor's office, before swishing the fluid around in her mouth and swallowing in one gulp. Her pleased grin returned to her face, and she gently wrapped her fingers around his base, bringing him to her mouth again. "Let me clean you off," she purred, licking him from base to tip, batting her eyelashes at him, playing up the sweet innocent thing he loved about her. Tate shuddered as she moved her lips over him, the last tickles of pleasure jolting up his spine. "God, you're good," he said, exasperated and smiling, as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. He cupped his hands under her armpits to help her stand up.

After quickly soaping up and rinsing off the rest of their bodies, they shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. Violet playfully scrubbed Tate's hair dry with a towel, and he returned the favor, helping her wring her hair and wrap it up to dry, smiling at one another as they did. In her bedroom, he helped her pick out some cozy leggings and a cardigan to change into, taking the damp towels to the laundry basket for her. "You look nice," he said, kissing her on the side of the head, her still-wet hair moistening his lips. "Thanks," she said with a sweet, shy smile, brushing her hair back from her face with her fingers. "I had a good time." He smiled back down at her and kissed her on the mouth. "Me too. Go down with your family, ok? We don't want to keep 'em waiting. Might get suspicious." She nodded and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Violet, what's the matter, honey? You barely touched your food," Vivien asked, concerned. It was about 15 minutes into their meal and Violet, truthfully, hadn't made a dent in her dinner. A knowing grin creeped over her lips, but she tried to stifle it. "Sorry. I don't have much of an appetite. I'm kinda full already..." She glanced up saw Tate standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his shoulder slumped against the arch, giving her a flirtatious smile. He winked at her.


	3. Going Somewhere?

"You're nasty."

Tate had barely made it down the basement stairs when he heard the monotonous chiding. It was Moira, bent over the washing machine, shoving wads of soggy, wet clothes into the dryer. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"Get that pole out of your ass," Tate said playfully, with a smirk. "You sound upset, Moira," he continued, taking a seat in his rocking chair, his hands folded behind his head, his ankle crossed over his knee. "Mr. Harmon doesn't seem to be taking to your advances."

Moira scoffed, her steely eyes focused on the laundry. "It's just taking a little longer than average, that's all" she said resolutely, tossing the laundry into the dryer with a little more force than she needed to. Tate stuck his lip out and nodded slowly. "Not all of us have the hormones of youth on our side," she added.

Tate chuckled. "Now you definitely sound upset."

She pushed the dryer door shut and cranked on the dial. Finally, she faced him, her hand on her hip. "You're going to have to tell her the truth eventually. You're dynamic with Violet is different than mine."

"You mean your motive," he corrected, his shoulders tensing. He didn't like discussing his relationship with Violet with anyone, especially not the incessant ghosts they shared the house with. His shoulders tensed in defense.

"Don't you think its unfair to her-" she started.

"You're trying to fuck a guy into digging up your bones," he snapped, his dark eyes gone cold, picking at his fingernails. "Don't give me a lecture on treating people with kindness."

Moira picked up a basket of freshly dried towels, still warm from the dryer, and propped it against her hip. "Someone's got to look out for that little girl."

Tate laughed, and vulgarly grabbed his crotch. "Don't worry, she's well taken care of." Moira shook her head at his brazeness, unimpressed. He got up and began to make his way into another room. "I've lived with you for a long time, Moira," he called to her, his fists bunched in his pants pockets. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. "I've learned a few tricks from you."

Violet stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, a towel crowning her wet hair like a turban. The bathroom had become a sort of special place to her after what had gone on between her and her lover there. Every time the hot water hit her skin, she was reminded of the way he spread her open and licked her sore, swollen core without shame. She had a similar feeling of butterflies at the dinner table, where her parents naively asked her about her mysteriously vacant appetite. Her lips curled into a giddy smile as she brushed, a hot flush running over her cheeks. Tate had a way of bringing out a lascivious side to her that even made herself shocked.

But today wasn't one of those racy days. It was Monday morning, and like it or not (and most teens did not), Violet had to go to school. It was torture, especially when she'd rather be with her amazing boyfriend, but (shrug) rules were rules. She hadn't seen him in days, though, and she desperately missed him. Only one more day until his therapy session with her dad, then she could see him again. She spat out the toothpaste and smiled. At least she had the anticipation and thoughts of him to keep her company.

She spent 10 minutes blow-drying her hair before heading back to her room. She needed to grab her bag, and honestly, her textbook-late nights with Tate had left her neglecting her studying, but she figured she could get by cramming over breakfast. But when she opened her bedroom door, a jarring sight stopped her in her tracks, those lewd butterflies erupting in her stomach. Tate was sprawled out on her bed, his shoulders and head slumped against the headboard, his legs spread wide with his knees loosely bent. He was wearing a sexy black and green wool sweater, and, creeping out from those long sleeves were his pale fingers, thrust under his waistband. His jeans were unbuttoned, his fly unzipped, showing a strip of his white hand moving over the aching flesh beneath. He bit his lip and groaned, his head rolling over to one side, his bottom lip pink and pouty, quivering with delight, his eyebrows knitted as he pleased himself. He opened his eyes and looked intently at her, a mischievous smirk creeping over his lips. "Going somewhere?" he asked coyly.

Violet blinked like a deer in headlights. "Well don't be shy," he said with mock sweetness. "I won't bite you, baby." He leisurely licked his lips as he smirked, slowly pulling out his aching cock. He groaned as he touched himself, his fingers wrapped firmly around his tender flesh, and stared at her, looking smug, as he stroked himself. His chest rose and fell as his breathing quickened, a pink flush tinting his cheeks, the frayed end of his too-long sleeve scratching his mouth as he bit his fingernail with fake innocence, looking down at his hardness with the fraudulent portrayal of someone who had just discovered his sex organ worked that way, and found the newfound pleasure to be unbearable.

Violet knew this facade of innocence was a ruse to entice her. But it worked.

She finally clicked the door shut behind her, and, clutching the knot of her towel around her chest, tentatively stepped towards him. Tate promptly dropped his coy act and instead drew her towards him with a hypnotic stare. "That's it, baby," he gasped, his dark eyes fixed on her. "Come to daddy." Violet, who still felt naive and new to sex despite her loss of virginity, chewed her lip and stared shyly, her innocence authentic. She slowly drew up her towel and knelt down on the mattress in front of him between his spread legs, flushing with embarrassment as he laughed at her modesty. "You're such a good little girl, aren't you Violet?" He sneered, one hand resting behind his head as he pumped himself. "You're not used to seeing guys jerk off, are you?" Violet looked down and away, shaking her head. "Hmm? Are you?" Tate snapped, his voice authoritative. "No," Violet squeaked. Tate leaned back, his head pressed against the headboard, and grinned, a stray blonde curl hanging in his eyes. "No, of course not. Not good little Violet Harmon," he mocked, tracing his thumb over his swollen pink tip. "Mmm, fuck," he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Violet stared as if transfixed, resting on her knees, her hands folded in her lap, watching him closely. Sure, she knew how guys masturbated, she'd even seen Tate do it before, pumping himself with passion as he urged his seed forward into her mouth, or over her breasts, but never had he made a spectacle of it before. It was mesmerizing to her, the way he moved his fingertips over his pulsing flesh, tugging, touching, and rubbing himself, just as much for her amusement as his own. He was shameless, stroking himself slowly as if showing off every inch of himself to her, smearing his precum over his tender tip and down the vein of his underside. And just as brazen were his sounds: he moaned and purred and swore, biting his pink, bratty lips and squirming under his own expert touch, his toes curling and relaxing in black socks.

It was obvious, then, that he would enjoy looking at her just as much as the sight of him tantalized her. But she felt nowhere near as courageous as Tate clearly did. There was no way she'd just throw off her towel and put herself on display-she was way too shy. So she did what she felt comfortable with and leaned forward, her chest pressed to the mattress, her bottom up in the air. Her lips were inches away from him, so Tate tilted his dick towards her, expecting a blowjob, but Violet shook her head, a bashful smile on her face. "I'd like to keep watching you, if that's alright," she said shyly. Tate smirked and nodded, his hand moving over the smooth skin of his cock without missing a beat. Violet slowly brought her hand between her legs, pushing the edges of her towel aside and gently traced her middle finger up over her lips, then gently around her hole, warming herself up before sliding two of her fingers over her clit in small, slow circles. She whimpered and her knees buckled, but her eyes were focused on Tate.

Tate, of course, was starting at her, and tore his eyes away from her adorable, perky chest to notice the odd motion of the fabric. He squinted at her. "What are you doing, baby girl?" He asked, sitting up. "N-nothing!" Violet said, sitting up as well, feeling rather embarrassed. "Are you touching yourself, Violet?" He demanded, reaching his hand up her towel. She tried to swat his hand away, but he snickered and placed his free hand over hers, feeling where she was touching. "Go on, baby" he whispered in her ear, moving her hand over her clit for her. "Don't be shy." Tate nibbled on her earlobe, his erection pressing into Violet's hip as he released his grip on himself, choosing instead to run his hand up over his girl's waist, her stomach, until he was cupping her breast. He planted soft kisses along her collarbone as Violet began to move along with him, touching herself passionately without his guidance. "That's it, that's a good girl," he moaned into her ear, letting go of her hand. He ran his hands over her thighs, kissing on her neck. Eventually, he coaxed a shy little moan out of her, her breathing heavy, her forehead pressed against his shoulder as she bit her lip, her fingers moving over herself nonstop. He cupped the side of her face, his fingers tangled in her hair, and nipped at her jaw. "Keep going baby, don't stop," he growled into her ear. Violet grinned and quickened her pace. "That's it, don't stop," Tate repeated, his hand moving from her jaw, down her neck, over her chest. He snickered, and said it one last time. "Violet, don't stop!" And forcefully yanked the towel down off of her, the loose knot coming undone instantly.

Naturally, Violet stopped. Her eyes snapped open as did her mouth and she covered up her chest with both arms. "Tate!" He laughed enthusiastically, bunching up the damp towel and tossing it on the floor. "What? I've seen you naked before." He gripped her by the hips and brought himself close to her, his erection poking her in the stomach. "I told you not to stop, Violet," he said, his low, bossy tone returning. Violet blinked and looked away, her shy submission returning. He ran his hands over her waist, kissing the thin skin of her decolletage. "Let me see the effect I have on you. Let me see how much you love looking at my throbbing cock, Violet." Again, she relaxed, her arms falling at her sides, gripping the iron bars of her bed frame, arching her back in service to him. He squeezed her ass violently with both hands, digging his fingernails in as he kneaded her cheeks. "Mmm!" Violet winced from the sudden contact. Tate flicked his tongue over her perky, pink nipple, looking up at her with his dark eyes, sparkling with something naughty. "Come on, Violet," he moaned, scraping her nipple with his teeth. "You know you want to." A shudder went down Violet's spine as he played with her nipple, alternately biting, sucking with those beautiful full lips, and flicking his tongue over the swollen tissue just to watch her squirm. Her insides felt hot and achy, and he was absolutely right, she wanted to touch herself, or have him touch her, or whatever, anything to satisfy the intense need he always seemed to cultivate in her. Slowly, but a little less shyly, Violet reached down and drew circles around her clit.

Tate snickered. "That's it, princess, do exactly what I say," he boasted, smacking his lips against her nipple. He ran his hands over her ass, pink from his aggressive treatment, and slid his hands over her hips and down her thighs. "Hmm?" he asked, feeling the inside of her legs. Her thighs were dripping in a slick, clear wetness. Tate slid his fingers up over her skin and held his coated fingers up. "Look at that Violet, you're all wet," he bragged, sucking the flavor off of his fingers. He gripped her by the back of the hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck. "You like when I make you all wet, don't you?" He purred into her ear. Violet moaned, her breathing ragged, her nipples firm from how he teased them, her pussy dripping with need. Tate laughed again, and looked at her with that same mischievous look in his eyes. He suddenly grabbed her by the backs of her thighs and yanked her forward, knocking her on her back. "Don't you baby?" He growled, pushing her legs apart. She was naked and wide open for him, on display, just how she couldn't seem to imagine herself moments before. He gently took her hand and placed it over her pink, slick cunt. "Now," Tate instructed matter-of-factly. "Let's do this together. Touch," he ordered, leaning back against the headboard, his fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, just how he started.

Violet groaned in dissatisfaction when he backed away from her. Tate had an insidious effect on her, where each touch, each kiss built up and until she was craving more and more from him, until she had to have him take her completely. He knew he did this to her, of course, and in moments like this, knew just when to utilize it for maximum benefit. She did the only thing she could, and decided to placate that need herself, right in front of him. So she spread herself wide, entangled with Tate, her ankles under his bent knees, and did what he ordered her to do. She used two fingers to slowly push her lips apart, teasing him with the revelation of her insides. Tate gave a guttural moan as he watched her, biting his lips as he ran his thumb over his own dripping tip. It was her turn to snicker, pleased with the effect she had on him as well. She used those same fingers to draw a circle around her entrance before pulling it open, demonstrating how he had stretched her with his thick cock just days before. She brought her hand up and licked her fingers, making sure they were extra wet, and pushed the two inside of herself, concentrating on Tate's focused expression. "Yes," he moaned, his face lighting up as he watched her finger herself. "Just like that, princess." Violet was happy to have his approval, and pushed in a third finger, her free hand stroking her tender nipples. "God, I remember how good the inside of your cunt feels," he said, pumping his fist more rapidly over his cock, beads of precum forming on his tip. "I love reaching inside you and pressing on your g-spot," he said with a perverted look that made Violet clench in delight. She pressed on the rough patch inside of her simulating the way Tate expertly seemed to do it, but it wasn't the same. Nothing seemed to get her off quite the way he did. So she watched him intently as she pushed her fingers in and out, using her free hand to rub her tingling clit.

Tate, of course, was thoroughly entertained. It was rare to see modest little Violet bare naked, spread open, scratching an itch that only he seemed to give her. He looked all over her greedily, taking in each vulgar display of sexuality: her freshly washed hair hanging over her flushed, innocent face, eyes closed, brows knitted, lips pouty and quivering as she felt her need for him with more and more urgency; her flat chest with their tempting, pink nipples, still firm and poking out from when he'd toyed with them; her back arched, showing off her narrow waist and slender hips; and finally, her bony knees pushed far apart, revealing her soft, rosy core, which was nearly hidden again by her eager, busy fingers, slick with wetness. "That's it, Violet," he moaned, drawing out his pleasure with slow, controlled strokes. "Touch yourself for me." A faint moan escaped her lips, and he chuckled at her. "You're getting close, aren't you, Vi?" He teased knowingly. "You're not used to touching yourself yet, are you? You can't take much more, can you baby?" Tate gave her a cocky smile, watching her squirm and moan, her fingers moving more quickly. He stood up on his knees and crawled over to her. "Go on, Violet," he said with that same faux sweetness that drove her crazy, gently rubbing his tip over her cheek. Violet purred and nuzzled against the velvety feel of him on her cheek, her legs tensing as her fingers worked. "Cum for me," he said kindly, tapping her on the face with his length. Violet laughed at the playful gesture, and looked up at him with affectionate, needy eyes, the muscles in her forearms getting tense, her back strained, her breathing quickening. But Tate was impatient, and wanted results immediately. "Now, Violet," he growled, his eyes fixed on her, tapping her a little more roughly. "I said right now!" he barked at her, reaching down to push her clumsy, inexperienced fingers aside and shoved his own four in, waiting a second for her little body to adjust to the thickness before pumping in her with much more expertise than she could demonstrate. "Ugh, Tate!" she gasped, her muscles stiff and rigid as her fingers continued to work on her clit, rubbing with urgency. Her core was aching, it was all too much and she needed to let it out finally. Tate snickered as he saw her breathing hitch, his own fist pumping faster over his cock as he wiggled his fingers inside her, pushing her over the edge. He pressed his lips over hers to stifle her screams, her body spasming in twitches that jolted down her spine. After several moments, she collapsed, her body spent. Tate pulled his fingers out, looking at her with that cheeky, condescending smile, the one that says "I knew I had you." He didn't bother to clean off his wet fingers before grabbing her by the hair, exposing her vulnerable body. "My turn," he said, his voice raspy, his hand moving rapidly over his cock. Within three strokes he bit his lip and came, cumming in long, pulsing shots, with Violet giggling beneath him, the warm fluid pooling in the hollows of her collarbones, running down her chest and stomach. "Ahh..." Tate gasped as he finished, the last shots of his cum, oozing over his fingers.

Violet smiled and grabbed his hand and stuck his soiled fingers in her mouth, sucking off the cum, licking between his fingers until he was all clean. He did it for her a lot, so why not return the favor? She pulled his fingers out with a naughty grin that was more playful than sexy, as if she had taken a drink too quickly and dribbled some on her chin. He smiled back and ruffled her hair before kissing her on the forehead. He got off the bed, buttoning up his pants as he reached for the towel of hers that he'd discarded earlier, and wiped the mess off of her stomach. "I just showered!" She groaned, covering her eyes in embarrassment, that playful smile still on her lips. "At least you'll smell like me all day now," Tate retorted with a grin. "Did you have a good time?" He asked, drying her off with the towel. "Yes, of course I did," Violet said fondly, looking at him with affection. "Good, me too," he said before kissing her softly on the mouth. "Better get dressed, you're gonna be late," he added mockingly. "Shit," Violet muttered, looking at the clock. "I completely forgot!" Tate grinned, taking that as a compliment. He reached into her bedside table and pulled out a cereal bar that she kept in there, allegedly to give her energy during those nonexistant study sessions, and flicked it at her. "Enjoy your breakfast,"he said coyly. "Shut up," Violet joked, pulling a dress on. Tate went over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Have a good day, ok? I'll see you tomorrow," he said, before walking out of her bedroom door.

In the hallway, he happened to see Moira. "You might want to wash Violet's sheets," he chuckled as he walked passed. Moira rolled her eyes and sighed.


	4. Suffer My Desire

All day long, school was torture. She shuffled from classroom to classroom, pushing through thick crowds of sullen students, and sat through mind-numbing lectures for six consecutive hours. Her pen moved in her notebook, but when the bell rang and she looked at what she'd written, it was always another layer to a doodle that was beginning to look like her boyfriend's name, surrounded by romantic hearts and flowers-never, ever course notes. She would push the heels of her palms into her eyes, groan, and promise herself she'd pay attention next period, but never broke her pattern.

Instead, her mind would wander to the same thing. She'd think back to how he'd sensually seduced her in the kitchen, pushing her over the stool and possessing her despite the risk of her father's fury, and she'd bite down hard on her lip, as if trying to swallow the memory away, keep it under control. She'd recall how he kissed her soreness better in the shower and emptied himself down her throat, his fist tangled in her wet hair, a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes, and her knees would buckle, her palms would start sweating, and she would make a conscious effort to control her breathing (lest she appear even more like a weirdo, breathing hard for seemingly no reason). She would smell the scent of their combined fluid on her fingers, or notice how flakes of his dried load were embarrassingly peeling off on her chest, and she'd tug on the hem of her dress, pulling it down over her knees, as if that would hide away the tingling ache pulsing inside of her. She'd put her head down and see their sex life in flashes: the way he'd smile with approval whenever she'd pull him out of her throat, base to tip, his length coated in saliva that clung to her lips in sloppy tendrils. Or the way he'd grunt at her, his fine features twisted into a dissatisfied snarl as he spanked her into submission, her ass turning pinker and stinging harder each time he struck her. Or the way he took ownership of her body with his skilled fingers and expert tongue, licking, squeezing, pinching, teasing... it was almost too much for someone as inexperienced as she was. But she loved to let him take the lead. He made it clear that he knew what to do, how to please her, in every possible scenario.

And she was beginning to crave his expertise, now that she'd sampled it enough times. Her own awkward, naive fingers paled in comparison. She tried her fingers, her electric toothbrush, her mattress, her shower head, yet nothing compared half as well to how he could give her his naughty smirk, the one that says I'm going to do whatever I damn well want with you, and make her throb with a sizzling, desperate need. It was cruel, the way he could push her body to it's limit and expect it to satisfy her, with nothing else, for days. It was agony, it was unfair, and it was mean. She promised herself that he would experience the same intense cravings, and be denied.

He needed to know what it felt like to suffer her desire.

Waiting was the hardest part. She had to force the hours by, filling her time with useless activities: tapping her pencil on her notebook throughout school lectures, smoking more cigarettes than usual, sitting through awkward, stiff dinners with her parents. Nighttime was the worst. Usually, she would lay under the covers and chase that hypnotic passion that Tate had always possessed her with. But that night, she had forbidden it-she told herself she'd need all the desperate lust she could manage, so she wouldn't chicken out. She puffed out her cheeks as she let out a heavy sigh. "Deal with it", she chided herself.

But as she was getting ready for bed that evening, she noticed something special that had accidentally been left behind. Draped over the back of her desk chair was one of Tate's mottled wool sweaters. She had no idea how it'd gotten there-her mind naturally flashed to Moira, but why would she be doing the Langdons' laundry? It didn't matter-she stepped towards it and gently ran her palm over the scratchy material, as if petting her dog. There was tension in her wrists and fingers, like she was afraid that her only token of his would vanish into thin air if she touched it too much. But as the reality of the situation grew on her, she became excited, a happy smile stretching over her lips. She picked it up, and held it up in front of her, examining it. It was soft and familiar, and vaguely warm, as if it had been freshly laundered-or peeled off of his warm body-and left there. She shyly looked over her shoulder, despite knowing the room was empty and the door was locked, and hurried into the bed, Tate's sweater bunched up in her arms. She clicked off the lamp and held the fabric close to her body, the material pressed close to her chest as she fingered the fraying hem of a long sleeve. She was embarrassed, even in the private darkness, with the comforter pulled up over her head, but still, she brought the fabric close and inhaled deeply. His scent was warm, musky and familiar, and the fragrance made her head spin with a deep desire, deeper than any surface-level lust that had been annoying her. She missed him with her whole body, especially a painful ache that shook her heart. An unbearable loneliness came over her, and she held the sweater close to her, bringing that sweet, pleasant smell closer to calm her sadness. The scent broke through her sniffles and reminded her more of him, the way he had coyly given her suicide advice when they'd first met, and how he'd snuck into her room to see her after sessions with her dad, how he'd smile at her and hold her and just listen to her, really listen, and for once she had someone who knew what she was feeling and didn't dismiss her as a hormonal teen or try to psychoanalyze her. He simply got her, they understood each other, and in that moment, she'd missed him more than anything else in the world. She couldn't hold back anymore; teardrops fell from her eyes as she tried to blink them away, wetting the fabric of his sweater, which she still held softly to her cheek, like a baby cradling it's blanket. "Tate..." she whimpered sadly.

In the morning, Violet woke up feeling better than ever. It was her day to finally see him again. Her heart always sang on Tuesdays and Thursdays-no matter what happened, everything would be ok, because she could see him again. And, she was feeling particularly excited, since today would be the day she could execute her plan. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up in bed, her fingers moving affectionately over the wool of his sweater that he'd left behind. A smile curled her lips. It was almost like he was trying to help her, like he wanted her to tease him.

She pulled his sweater on and wore it to school, where she had plenty of time to perfect her plan. Tate's appointment was an hour after she'd get home, which would give her plenty of time to get ready. She kept picturing the shocked look on his face when he'd finally see her, his shy little kitten suddenly exposing herself, making a bold move and showing him the kind of effect he had on her. By the time the last bell rang, she could hardly contain her wide grin of excitement.

Once she got home, she pulled off her leggings, unhooked her bra, and slithered out of her panties, until the only thing left on her was Tate's sweater. She couldn't sit still waiting for time to pass, so she combed her hair, put a little makeup on. She even borrowed some of her mother's expensive lotion and rubbed down her legs, working the excess into her hands until she finally heard the front door open. She let out a small squeal of excitement and finally tiptoed down the stairs.

She peeked around the corner of the stairwell and saw her dad greeting his patient. There he was! She caught a sliver of his blonde hair and luminous skin, and she could swear that for a second, he caught her eye and smiled coyly at her before following Ben into his office. She quietly sped down the stairs and followed, lingering close to the wall next to the doorway.

She cautiously peered her head around the corner. Ben was pleasantly gesturing to Tate to have a seat on the patient's couch (which the blonde did, with a cheerful smile) as he sat down opposite him in a leather armchair. Violet could only see tufts of her father's dark hair poking out over the back of the chair. His back was to her completely, and if she was careful not to attract too much attention, he wouldn't see her at all.

It wasn't his attention she wanted anyway. Her young lover glanced over, as Ben was looking over his notes on a clipboard, and he offered his girlfriend a sly smile, before focusing his gaze back towards her dad. "So, Tate. How do you feel your progress is going?" Her father asked clinically. Tate cocked his head, his messy curls hanging lazily over one eye.

"Not good," he confessed, his dark eyes wandering casually over to where Violet was hiding. "I seem to be... distracted lately."

"Do you want to talk more about that?" Ben asked gently.

Tate blew out a deep breath, the exhalation blowing on the end of his hair. "I've been having obsessive thoughts," he muttered. His eyes moved slowly over the ground before finally raising up to meet the doctor's eyes. "About your daughter," he tacked on firmly.

Violet knew, without seeing, the look her father was giving him. It was the same one he used on her every time he felt like pretending to be "the man of the house": he'd suck in his cheeks to make his jaw look taut, and narrow his eyes down to disappointed, disapproving slits. "You know that topic is out of bounds, Tate. I don't want you talking about my daughter."

"But does your daughter want to talk about me?" He asked tauntingly. Violet felt her cheeks burn pink, a giddy smile on her lips. He shot her a quick, knowing look, and caught her tracing her fingertips absently over her decolletage.

"That's enough," her father said strictly, doing his best to maintain his professional composure. "We're here to talk about you. Not my family."

"I am talking about me," Tate clarified. "You asked me how I'm doing and I said I'm distracted." He leaned forward, folding his hands between his knees. "Doesn't get any more straightforward than that."

"I see," Ben said dully. He scribbled some things down on his clipboard, a tense silence between the two. Meanwhile, Violet edged a little more into Tate's sight, running one leg over her smooth, lotioned calf, chewing her bottom lip, and hiding part of her face behind his sleeve. It wasn't the confident, dominant presentation she wanted to give him, but Tate was always asserting himself over her in ways she didn't expect. He caught sight of her, and raised his eyebrows briefly in approval. Finding her strength, she ran her hand over her thigh and teasingly pulled up the hem of his sweater, slowly. It was torture having his eyes on her: even from halfway across a room, she knew the intimacy of those dark eyes, suspected the hints of desire that were undoubtedly circling behind them. She felt exposed and vulnerable, in the strangely thrilling way that was unique to his effect on her. He could feel his eyes watching, moving over her, as if it were his hand moving up her soft inner thigh, and not her own. He knew just how to make her heart race with loud, anticipating thuds, and she suspected he rather enjoyed it.

Ben lifted his head up from his clipboard, and instantly, the teens snapped back to their original positions, before he could catch wind of anything. It was then Violet realized that only a few seconds had gone by. Funny how time seemed to move in slow motion with him.

Ben sighed, seeming exasperated already. "Have you tried exercising to relieve your stress?"

"I'm not stressed. I'm distracted," Tate said. If she knew anything about her dad, he was rolling her eyes. "Look, Dr. Harmon," Tate said. "My mother sends me to you for help, right? I don't think she'd be really pleased if she knew you were dodging the real problem and not giving me adequate treatment."

"I'm not comfortable talking about-"

"Your sexy little daughter?" He finished for him. Violet's eyes widened at his frankness, and she peeked her head over the corner to watch him, a dull ache beginning to thrum between her thighs. She recognized that tone in Tate. It was the voice he used when he was going to make sure he got what he wanted (and she had quite a hard time resisting it). "We all know this. But what I'm really curious about, is WHY." Tate continued, using his best impersonation of her father's doctor voice. "Let's ASSESS and ANALYZE, to PROBLEM SOLVE together, okay? They say its hard on a man when his daughter becomes a woman. How old was she, when her breasts started to grow?"

At the sound of the word, Violet's hands went absently down to cup her chest, without her even realizing it. She felt their soft, delicate shape through the rough material of his sweater, and ran her palms sensually over the small mounds of flesh, the way he did.

"Knock it off, Tate," Ben said sternly.

"It must've been weird for you, doing a load of family laundry and finding her first bra. Probably gave you mixed emotions, am I right?" Tate continued.

"Let's get back to the original topic, please," Ben grunted.

"You seem to be avoiding things, Dr. Harmon," Tate said, his elbow propped on his knee, cupping his jaw as he gave her father a condescending, scrutinizing glance.

Ben smirked. "Violet's been doing her own laundry for years. Are you still getting headaches?"

Tate leaned back slowly. "Yes."

"We're getting somewhere," Ben mumbled as he flipped through his notes.

"I think it's because I'm staying up all night being distracted," Tate snapped, impatient with Ben's evasion. His eyes wandered lustily to where Violet was hiding, the tip of his tongue running slowly over his pouty lips. "Aspirin doesn't work for these kinds of tension headaches. It's a different kind of tension."

"You're very clever, Tate," Ben said, bored and still looking through his notes.

Violet bit her lip and looked mischievously at her lover, her fingers tracing the wet, sore outline of her lower lips. She bat her eyelashes at him, feeling herself swell and open up for him. She hitched her breath nervously, fearful that her father could hear the squelching sound as her fingers slipped easily inside her. Ben didn't move a muscle, but it was obvious that Tate was enjoying her shyly wanton displays. While her father was looking away, Tate slowly, indulgently ran his hand over his thickening bulge.

"Do you exercise to relieve the stress of your new maid?" He countered. That got Ben's attention, but he said nothing. "Or do you let her tempt you with those short little skirts, letting such... feminine legs distract you." His eyes had wandered languidly over to Violet as he spoke, and gave her an affirming little wink.

"I have a wife that I'm very in love with," Ben started firmly.

Tate rolled his eyes. "Does anybody really believe that? Because it sounds like something you try to convince yourself of. I know Violet thinks it's bullshit."

"You don't know anything about my daughter," Ben snapped. He was getting tense.

Tate smirked. "Don't I?" He inched over to the edge of his chair, leaning forward intently. "I know how you slept with your trashy student. I know how Violet wishes you and your wife, who you love SO much, would get a divorce. I know how sweet her skin smelled when she whispered to me how I was the only good thing about her moving here."

"This isn't about me, or my daughter, or my family. This is supposed to be about you, alright?" Ben answered impatiently.

"Your daughter is the problem with me," he snapped.

"My daughter didn't make you need therapy, Tate," Ben insisted. "She's not the problem."

Tate laughed. "You don't want to see it, do you? You think if you just look the other way she'll stay your little girl forever? You think with lips like that, and that skinny little body, that boys will never notice her?" She could practically hear her father's teeth gritting. "She feels so thin and feminine when I hold her. She's got the flattest, cutest little tits-"

"I'm warning you, Tate..."

"You've looked the other way since she hit double digits. And you really think you're the only one she's calling 'daddy' anymore?" he asked snidely.

"You son of a bitch-" Ben snarled.

"I'll send Mrs. Langdon your regards," he quipped. "I have to stop by Violet's room first."

"Get out of my house!" Ben snapped, losing his patience.

Tate stood up, defiantly. "You think you're the man of this house?" He asked threateningly, looking down on her father with sharp, aggressive eyes. Then his face relaxed, and a smile formed on his lips. "I know what's really going on here," he said coyly. He leaned down and placed his hands on either side of Ben. The words came out in a low, merciless accusation. "I think you covet your daughter."

Violet jumped back when she heard the sharp crack of Ben's fist making contact with Tate's cheek. He fell to the ground, landing on his side. But after the initial shock, he turned to look up at Ben, who was standing over him now, rage emanating from him like steam. Tate drew up one knee, laying languidly before him. "This is why she loves me more than you," he laughed.

"I raised her better... My daughter would never love someone like you... " His sentences were punctuated with fragmented, angered pants.

"isn't that what you're afraid of? That someone will get inside her first?"

Ben picked him up by the collar of his shirt, grunting in fury. Tate laughed. "Now we're getting somewhere!" He mocked.

He released the younger boy with a violent push towards the door. "Out!" He snapped.

Tate was still chuckling. He made eye contact with her. "When you're ready, I'd like that back," he said, gesturing to the sweater she was wearing, and turned casually out the front door.

Violet felt panic as her dad laid eyes on her, scantily clad in one of her boyfriend's trademark sweaters, an incriminating wetness streaked down her inner thighs. There was something powerfully erotic about seeing Tate assert himself, especially when it came to her. But that didn't mean she wanted her dad to see. Her father made the first step towards her, and she made a futile attempt to turn and run up the stairs.

"Violet!" He barked, his anger at Tate clearly not swayed, simply transferred to a new target.

"Leave me alone!" She muttered, scurrying up the first few steps.

"Stay aw-"

"I'm not staying away from him!" she protested.

"You don't know what you're getting into. Look at you, that's not how you get boys to like you."

"Yeah, because that's not how Hayden got you to like her," she said sarcastically. and stormed up the last few stairs.

She had looked back over her shoulder, shooting a disgusted, annoyed look down towards her father. But when she turned to face forward, Tate was right there, and planted his lips securely over hers. "How did you...?" she asked bewildered.

"Thought you might tease me a little and get away with it?" he muttered sensually, running his hands over the scratchy wool fabric, feeling her soft, thin waist beneath. He backed her up against the wall, just near the edge of the stairs, looking down on her as if she were a sweet, indulgent treat. "Mine," he breathed possessively in her ear, lifting her up by the waist. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, desperate to be close to him. His body felt so warm, still burning with furious passion, the culmination of which was pressing achingly against her exposed femininity.

"You can have it back," she mumbled lamely, overcome by his appealing dominance.

"I wasn't talking about the sweater," he growled, yanking the loose shirt up over her head, exposing her slight, naked, vulnerable body. Her nipples were firm and swollen, scratched red by the sweater's raw material, and aching with need for him. He wrapped his full lips around one instantly, sucking hard, scraping his teeth on the sensitive flesh in short, sharp nibbles. He ground his hips into hers, his thickening bulge pressing and teasing her through the coarse fabric of his jeans. Her lips embraced him, and he could feel her warm wetness soaking through the material, and encouraging him. He occasionally looked up at her tauntingly, as he sucked her and teased her, his dark eyes sending a clear message: "I know how you want it." He gave her behind a sharp smack and dug his fingernails into the perky flesh, grunting as he bit down on her nipple and then released it, licking the aching flesh teasingly. She held onto him with her legs, her wrists pressed flat against the wall, her back arching in uncontrollable pleasure. She winced, and struggled to keep her breathing under control.

"Tate... my dad might hear..." she whispered, pleading with him, her brow furrowed in tormented frustration.

He snickered. "You think I don't want that?" He pinched and twisted both of her nipples and bit down hard on her neck. She squirmed and writhed beneath him, feeling her legs tense. "Ugh," she moaned, unable to control herself much anymore. When he left a dark wine mark on her neck, he breathed into her ear. "Say my name," he ordered. He grabbed her by one wrist, his other hand slithered down between her legs, rubbing her soft spot. "Let daddy know who fucks you."

"Ugh," she grunted, trying to regain control of herself. Despite everything, her parents' opinion of her still mattered to her somewhat. "Mmm...Tate..." she whimpered, not in submission, but in needy pleading. He snickered, his fingertips moving in lush circles on her. "Louder," commanded. "He can't hear you." He bit his lip and quickened his pace. "Come on, Violet, be a good girl," he mocked, an evil grin on his lips. She winced, and shook her head, struggling to retain control of herself. But at the same time, her body was begging her to give in to him and his skilled, torturous touches. She felt her muscles clench, his dark eyes watching her intently pushing her closer and closer to the edge. "I... I..." she breathed, his touches sending ripples of pleasure up through her body, tormenting her. "I can't!" She whined, sounding very close to the brink of doing exactly what she was claiming she couldn't. Tate widened his eyes and pouted his lips, looking at her with mock sympathy. "Oh, you can't?" he imitated, before laughing at her. He suddenly ripped his hand off of her wrist and placed it firmly around her throat instead, his thumb stroking her jaw. "I'll just have to make you, won't I?" he murmured, bucking his hips into her assertively. He pulled his fingers up off of her aching body, gleaming with wetness, and sucked the flavor off of them before pushing the fly of his jeans open and exposing himself.

There was a bead of precum dripping from his swollen pink tip. He pressed it against her tender, aching clit and smeared it slowly, teasingly down to her warm, wet hole. He felt her throat vibrate beneath his hand and she hummed with pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head at the feel of his warmth. "Tate..." she breathed, more like how he wanted. He bit his lip and smiled, pushing himself slowly into her, to extend her ecstatic need for him. "That's more like it," he coaxed, as he felt her slick muscles envelop him on both sides. "That's it," he breathed. "Be a good girl, let him know who's your daddy now," he commanded, his breath quickening into needy pants. "Mmm, Tate," she moaned, feeling him expand her. Combined with his dirty words, she felt naughtier and more pleasured than she ever had. And suddenly, she didn't see what she had been resisting for. She looped her arms around his neck and looked him square in his teasing eyes. She moaned in delight as he pushed himself commandingly inside her, the tension and erotic hysteria finally building nearly to a breaking point. She was willing to put her girlish concerns and doubts aside. All she wanted was to feel him deep inside her, torturing her with his skill with his beautiful, thick cock. "Fuck me," she begged him, looking hungrily at him. "Fuck me!" she repeated, as he pushed inside her in quick, deep spurts.

He shook his head at her, displeased. He opened his mouth to say the familiar command. "Lou-"

"FUCK ME, TATE!" she screamed, losing her restraint. She didn't care if her father heard, or her mother, or the maid, or the neighbors, to be honest. All she wanted was to feel him throbbing and grinding inside of her, and if pleasing him would heighten that experience for her, she was damn well willing to do it. She'd worry about it later. "Fuck me, daddy," she whined, begging for his cock in the submissive tone he craved from the very beginning. "Fuck your good little girl, Tate, daddy, please, I need it!" She tilted her head back and arched her back, touching herself in needy, quick circles, eager to feel as much pleasure as he could offer her. She languidly ran her free hand over her nipple. "Mmm, that feels so good," she moaned, grinding her hips in time with him.

"Mmm, there it is," he said approvingly. He dug his fingernails into her shoulders and braced himself for more leverage, slamming into her as hard and as roughly as he could. "I always reward my good, obedient little girl, don't I?" Hmm?" Don't I, princess?" He knew she loved it when he commanded her, and he was fucking her as fast as he could, pushing her closer and closer to her climax, so he could indulgently feel her clench and ripple against his own spasming, pleasured muscle.

"Yes daddy," she whined, slow and delightfully, sounding as if she couldn't withstand much more of him. Her hands hand tensed into claws, and she was scratching along the hallway's wall, as if looking for something to hold her back as she burst. Her eyes were snapped shut, and her brow was furrowed, her mouth open in a needy little "O" shape-the face she made when she was coming towards the end. Tate chuckled. "Tate, I..." she whined, her torso heaving with each needy breath. "...ugh!" she winced in pleasure, unintentionally squeezing him.

"Shh, baby, it's okay" Tate cooed softly, kissing her firmly but lovingly on the mouth and slowing his pace. "You did what daddy asked, it's time for your reward, ok?" He smiled knowingly at her. "So don't hold back, and just let it go, okay?" He pumped into her full speed again, eager to feel her body quiver and shake beneath him, her core muscles gripping his shaft tightly and lovingly, and of course, her adorable, pleasured face. "Mmm, Tate..." the last half of his name got lost in a shaky, impassioned gasp. "I..." Tate snickered. "I know baby girl. Do it," he grunted and bucked his hips sharply into her. "Don't just talk about it, Violet. Do it. Come on, cum for me!" He snaked his fingers in her hair and gave it a sharp yank, pulling her head back and exposing her soft, tender throat, the purple hickey he'd given her earlier pulsing under her ragged breaths. "Ugh!" she gasped at his force. That was what set her off. "Tate, I...!" She twisted her head, trying to shy away from his watchful gaze as she melted beneath him, but with his fist in her hair, she was largely centered in front of him, which only intensified her body's quivers. Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was watching her, drinking up her submissive pleasure, and increasing his own because of it. It was all too much, and unlike any experience she'd had yet. She didn't censor her moans, and let them echo through the empty halls. All that mattered was the connection she was feeling with her lover. "Ugh, Violet," he moaned, low and guttural, shaking in time with her, his warm, runny fluid filling her up. "Leaving me with a full stomach again, huh?" she breathed with a laugh into his ear as he reached the last of his pumps. It was her turn to be coy.

She finished a few seconds before he did, and felt the muscles in his arms strain with pleasure and then relax as he, too, reached his end point. They took a few shallow, ragged breaths, and pressed their foreheads together, his slick with sweat, their eyes still closed. His breath was warm and familiar on her delicate skin, and she inhaled, feeling even more in tune with him, as if she were "breathing in" his spirit. She reached up and tickled a stray curl behind his ear, before sweetly cupping his face, and kissing him deeply on the mouth. He peppered her lips with a few more delicate kisses before whispering into her ear. "I love you so much, Violet.

When she opened her eyes, he and his sweater were gone.


End file.
